


embers in the snow

by rumiopulence



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Daenerys Doesn’t Go To Westeros, F/M, No Mad Queen Or Whatever That Shit Was, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, R Plus L Equals J, Smut, Some Book Lore, Some Show Lore, not stark friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumiopulence/pseuds/rumiopulence
Summary: daenerys was content in essos, fine with the simplicity and ease the days brung, but a warning from a red witch drives her to dragonstone, and that’s when the fight for survival becomes that much harder
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	embers in the snow

**Author's Note:**

> *UNBEATED*

01| THE EMPRESS IN THE EAST

  
  


There’s a strange sort of peace Daenerys finds in the different sounds of Meereen. The talking of people, the laughter of children, the yelling of traders trying to sell their merchandise. No longer did the cries of distress fill the city. Knowing that she slept well.

This morning, Daenerys slid out of bed when the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky. She’d slept almost most of the day away. Of course, it didn’t bother her knowing the entire pyramid would have a late start. The night before the entire city celebrated a year of peace, with a feast and a large party that went on until the early hours of the morning. 

In the room next to her own, Missandei and Greyworm are still asleep. So instead of waking either up, Daenerys prepares her bath herself. Pouring the lemon-scented oils and bathing glitters into the boiling water. The door creaks open as she is sinking into the tub, she isn’t surprised to see it’s Varys. His presence doesn’t bother her, the man liked cock more than she did at times. 

“Excuse my interruption your grace, but you’ve received a missive.” In his hand is a rolled parchment, a bright red seal keeping it tightly rolled together. 

“From who?”

“A red priestess, Your Grace.”

/ 

Daenerys put little faith in Gods. They’d proved through the centuries they much rather enjoyed angst and chaos than happiness. At least to her. She knew very little of the Lord of Light. Though Daenerys had hosted many of the priestesses that traveled to Meereen to spread their word. How that translated to an entire message almost demanding she go to Westeros was something she wasn’t grasping. 

“What could possibly be in Westeros that we need?” Daenerys sets the parchment down with a sigh, “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“Do you think they’re trying to harm you, Your Grace?” Missandei asks from beside her. 

“They praise her as the Princess of Fire. They wouldn’t dare hurt their Lord of Light’s champion.” 

“Tyrion does have a point, how many have come and prayed at your feet? How many have given you gifts and blessed you with holy water? Whatever they are trying to do, they don’t mean it to be harmful.” Varys adds to her hand’s point. His round face in an expression that Daenerys’ has only seen when he’s thinking. 

Daenerys stands from the council table and walks to the open terrace. From there she can see her children, Frolicking about themselves in the bay of their namesake. 

“When I first began my campaign as a conqueror, I had wanted to go to Westeros. It was my homeland just as much as Valyria was my ancestors. Aegon had conquered it along with his sister-wives and brought peace. But in the end, it was my father that brought the downfall of our family. His sickness, his _madness._ ” Daenerys shakes her head solemnly. There were many times when she dreamed to be in Westeros. With a family, with a home, and not on the run with Viserys. But that was all they were, dreams. “Westeros isn’t ready for another Targaryen, least of all the last one.” Because she didn’t fear death, that didn’t mean she was ready to greet her just yet. 

“Surely we can’t just ignore the message,” Tyrion hobbles around the table, “It would be seen as disrespectful by them and their followers.” 

“Very well,” Daenerys rubs her temple, “Send for one of their High Priestesses. I would want to speak with her myself.” 

* * *

Kinvara was not a bad person. She did as her lord commanded and for that, she had been was rewarded as a high-standing priestess and speaker of their truth. 

As of lately, they’d been loud in her ears. Whispers about fire, dreams of ice. She’d never known them to be so aggressive. Their God was patient and usually got their way in the long run of the game. So to hear them in such duress, to feel them push for their champions to be protected, she could do nothing but obey and send for them. 

Kinvara hoped Melissadre understood her role to play in this game. That she took what the lord was telling them seriously. The strategy routes the woman had been taking crisscrossed so much she’d earned the scorn of their other champion. But they needed him. 

Two halves of one whole. The Princess of Fire and Prince of Ice to bring the light. 

  
  


* * *

While she was Drogon’s rider, she loved all of her children the same. They may as well had all come out of her womb, the love she had for them was that of a mother’s and she took the title seriously. It did break her heart knowing that she could never have a child in her belly, that life would never grow inside her again. 

In Westeros, a woman who could not carry children was as useful as the sack potatoes came in. Another reason she’d given up her quest for the bloodstained lands. Essos was far more free, far more liberated. All the more reason to stay. 

Drogon nudged her shoulder, his head nearly the size of a carriage. The biggest and most independent of her children, he was the biggest pain in her sides at times as well. 

“You don’t wish to be up there with your little brothers?” She nods to the sky, where Rhaegal and Viserion playfully snap at each other. Drogon huffs, and Daenerys gets the feeling that he’s bored and simply wants to rest. 

Patting his maw lovingly, she turns back up at the sky. Peace settles into Daenerys’ bones and she expellees it with a sigh. Whatever the Red Priestess was going to tell her wasn’t going to change her mind. Essos was home, the people here were her family. Her mothers, her fathers, her children. This was where she belonged and nothing would change that. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
